Lake Okeechobee
by nursehelena
Summary: Many years later at the end of it all, as the world shuddered and wheezed about them, Nathan would recognize the bearded man at Selatcia's right hand.


Nathan's tailbone grew numb from the knotted wood he sat upon, the stick he drew in the sand with slipping in his grasp. Even in the shade, he kept needing to wipe sweat from the bridge of his nose with his already-soaked tee shirt. What a stupid vacation. Only his mother could get sentimental about the Floridian outdoors. Just because her parents used to bring her here, why did that mean _he_ had to get drug along in the height of July's humidity?

The water didn't help. He'd tried swimming, but its temperature matched the air. It only made him feel wetter. With no air conditioning or oscillating fans to speak of in this horrid place, the best he could do was count down until Sunday afternoon when they finally packed up. Or maybe, he hoped, his parents would give up before then. Their upbeat tones waned as they commended getting back to nature, revisiting youth, and all that other lame crap. Perhaps the nasty truth settled in.

Something yellow appeared in Nathan's peripheral vision. A tube. Nathan figured he'd picked somewhere private enough to sulk, but a red-headed kid found it anyway. Nathan's dad grumbled last night at dinner about running into some Soviet defectors, and he might've jerked his head in this boy's family's direction. He was certainly pale enough to come from somewhere so far north. His back reflected sunlight like a piece of tin as he tread into the water.

Unlike the previous evening, at least, the kid didn't stare at him from three sites away. Every time Nathan looked up, he imagined the whites of his eyes visible. Even when Nathan managed to push it from his mind, he still squirmed. What was his deal? They'd never met before, and they'd never meet again once their families left this stupid lake behind. If he wanted to hang out, then he should just say so. Maybe like Nathan, he preferred not to talk.

Whatever his deal, he floated off. Bored and hungry as the sun waned west, Nathan cringed thanks to a sore butt and headed back to camp. Hamburgers sizzling on the grill whet his palate. His dad sat a few feet away, beer can situated on his knee. For how early he usually started to drink in the afternoon, this had to be his third or fourth one. "Whatcha been up to, boy?"

"Nothing."

"Bored?"

"Yeah."

"Why don'tcha make some friends, or something?"

Nathan shrugged. What was the point? At least his father, never the socializer himself unless alcohol played part, understood. Nathan stuck around the cabin through dinner and the card games that followed, though didn't say much to them either. While his parents bickered over the number of points in a cribbage hand, his gaze wandered back toward the lake. Pretty far from where he'd sat earlier, that yellow tube floated on the lake by its lonesome. He didn't think much of it until later, when he snacked on a Snickers bar.

"Nikolas!" An accent that reminded Nathan of a James Bond villain wafted over. "Nikolas, _gde tih?_"

Oscar grumbled. "You'd think they'd know not to speak that language around here."

"Oh hush." Rose slapped him lightly on the arm. "He sounds worried. Maybe we should ask what's wrong."

"Don't get yourself involved, Rose. If they can't keep track of their kid, that's their problem."

"What if it was _Nathan_ missing out there?"

"Nathan knows better than to wander off. Don'tcha, boy?"

One set of parents calling for Nikolas grew in numbers as the evening progressed. Flashlights darted all about down the lake, then alarm rippled outward as someone found the boy's tube up against the beach. Not much later after that, the police showed up.

"Do you think we should head home?" Rose asked. "I mean, they might drag the lake and I don't want Nathan to see that."

"We'll go in the morning," Oscar replied. "Right at dawn."

Readiness to leave compelled Nathan to help his parents organize their spot for an easy departure in the morning. After all their outside stuff got shoved into the car, Nathan packed his duffel bag inside his tent. A week spent mostly out and about kept his mess concentrated. He yawned as he zipped himself off from the world, punched his pillow, and only managed to kick his shoes off before sleep took him under.

Initially, Nathan believed all the ruckus down on the lakeshore woke him up in the middle of the night. Water dripped from somewhere though, and it didn't sound like rain. The feeling of being watched immediately plagued his chest. Someone was in the tent. No, that was stupid. How could anyone get in here without his knowledge? His parents could hardly roll over on their creaky bed inside the cabin without waking him. To discount the idea, he groped for his flashlight. While no external reaction showed over his face, his heart dropped into his stomach.

As if he'd only emerged from the lake, water dripped from Nikolas' hair. In the faint glow between them, his skin adapted a blue tinge. It didn't bother Nathan that a boy supposedly dead suddenly joined him here so much as the emotionless grin with which he was regarded.

"Your parents are looking for you," Nathan said in attempt to garner some sort of reaction. Nikolas said nothing, although Nathan could've sworn he moved closer as the flashlight threatened to die. The closer he got, the more it flickered.

"They aren't my parents," Nikolas replied. He enunciated carefully, to obscure his accent. It didn't entirely work. "I don't have parents."

"Uh, yeah, you do."

Somehow possible, Nikolas' grin widened. "Nyet, you don't understand. I'm not normal. And neither are you."

For one long second, as Nathan's flashlight faltered completely, he thought he might be a goner. When it came back, Nikolas' face would be right in his, or something. However, a good smack of the flashlight to his knee restored the light perfectly. Nikolas was gone, with no possible way to _be_ gone.

"Nathan, what're you doing?" His mother groaned when he snuck into the cabin. Good thing he hadn't hit any sort of growth spurt, yet; it made it easy to crawl up between his parents in the bed.

"Hit the couch," Oscar grunted. "Not enough room."

"Relax," Rose told him. "He's probably spooked from all the kerfuffle outside. Give him a break."


End file.
